


no escape

by no_reservations



Series: a slow corruption [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_reservations/pseuds/no_reservations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> </p><p>After his kidnapping Harry is drowning in paranoia. He seems to be seeing his captors everywhere. He tells himself it's because he's scared, but is that really all there is to it?</p><p> </p><p>Additional warnings for mindgames, stalking, more rampant drug use, auto-erotic asphyxiation, and ridiculously OOC boys.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	no escape

 

 

Harry was going mad, of that he was sure. He kept seeing them everywhere – at the corner of a street, in a cafe, in a bookstore flipping through freaking comics.

 

And every time his response was the same. The paralyzing flash of ice through his veins. The tingle in his palms. The beating in his chest. And then he'd look up again and they'd be gone, or just some normal boys, barely carrying any resemblance. He didn't know why he kept looking. It was fear. Fear, he told himself.

 

 

He was stumbling out of school, in a bit of daze from the cold meds he was still on a few days after really needing to. But he was still waking up feeling like shit every morning, and they helped to make it through the day.

 

A person with sandy hair bumped into him and he froze as he looked into blue eyes. A choked whimper escaped him, and there it was again, the ice and the tingle in his palms, as if he was about to jump off a ledge.

 

"Sorry," the person apologized, and he blinked at him. No, it wasn't even a him. It was a her, bearing nothing more than a passing likeness to him.

 

He shook his head, murmuring out an apology of his own before stumbling on. The girl shot him a queer glance.

 

Harry shook his hair out and tugged it back into place as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder, making his way home. Something caught the corner of his eye, and he glanced over.

 

And froze again as his heart shuttered in his chest.

 

There, lounging casually against a different car was Zayn, leisurely taking a pull from his cigarette. Next to him was Louis, equally casually flicking a butterfly knife open and closed. It was the glint of the sun's reflection that had caught his eye.

 

He stared at them long enough to make sure he wasn't imagining things again and for Louis to send him a cheeky grin. And then he started running.

 

Harry made it down the street and around the corner, before daring to look back. They weren't following. He dropped back down to a brisk walk, coughing up the remains of the cold still lodged in his lungs. He continued walking, his heart hammering in his chest.

 

A few more blocks, just a few more blocks, he told himself. A car sputtered somewhere behind him, and he started running again without looking back. A man walking his girlfriend's poodle looked at him oddly as he jogged past, his backpack hitting him awkwardly with each step, but he didn't notice. Almost there, almost there.

 

He was wheezing by the time he made it to his driveway, fumbling for his keys as he dashed to the door. The key missed the lock on the first few tries, his hands shaking too badly. He tried again, not daring to look behind him.

 

The door finally opened and he bolted inside, banging it shut as he threw the deadbolt in place. He panted against the door, before throwing his bag down and running for the backdoor, making sure it was locked as well. He threw the stick down into the sliding door's groove and drew the curtains.

 

Making his way up the staircase a bit unsteadily, the silence of the house echoed back to him threateningly. His sister was off to college now, and his mum was away at his aunt's for the week. Which left him here, alone.

 

Another coughing fit racked his body, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking as he made his way to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, seeking the safety of his covers as he curled into a ball beneath them.

 

But who was he kidding. They had broken into his house before. There was nothing stopping them from doing it again. The thought made him clench his eyes shut against the tears threatening to escape them.

 

 

That night he dreamed. Dreamed of hands caressing his skin, a sharp knife at his throat. He may have overdone it with the cold meds in an effort to knock himself out, because it felt terrifyingly real. But it was all caught up in a haze, and the hands were continuing down, ghosting over his abs while a mouth was at his throat. And it felt good.

 

He let out a wanton moan at the sensation, because hey, it was a dream, no need to feel ashamed. A voice chuckled against his neck, the warm breath against his skin feeling so strangely real. He leaned against it with a sigh.

 

Hands continued down, catching his member and stroking it to hardness with deft fingers. He bucked into his hand, not knowing how he knew it was a he, but somehow certain. They continued stroking him as a tongue licked at his neck, before placing an opened mouthed kiss and sucking. He let out another moan.

 

A tongue licked at the bruised skin, before covering his mouth with his. He responded to it immediately, melting into the slide, groaning against the shivers the gentle touch sent through him, combined with the hand pumping his erection.

 

A hand came to wrap around his neck, before clamping down. Harry let out a shocked gasp as his eyes flew open, sure he was still dreaming. The hand continued to work his cock with clever movements and he stared into eyes darkened by the night.

 

The hand clamped down further, to the point of shutting off his air supply. He tried to get in a desperate breath but found himself unable to. His eyes widened as panic slowly made its way through his sleep idled brain, starting to struggle against the grip.

 

Sluggishly reaching up his hands to tear at the hand strangling him, he found them oddly weak. One hand continued to jerk him off in an odd contradiction to the other one trying to kill him. His body responded in the most perplexing of ways, shooting more blood to his cock, as if trying to release one last load before he died. Like a tree bearing its most bountiful fruit on barren branches.

 

Because dying he was. Tears were in his eyes as he strained in vain for breath. His lungs were burning and his cock was hard, to the point of being painful. The hand led up for a second, letting him get in one desperate breath before clamping down again. The person was above him, an oppressing presence in the dim gloom of his bedroom. Harry stared up at him pleadingly, willing for him to have mercy. Whatever this was, he didn't want to die this way.

 

One hand continued to pump him, spreading his unwilling precome over the head and down his shaft, squeezing and twisting, while the other released and clamped down again, letting Harry breathe only at its will. His heart was pounding in his chest at a frantic rhythm. He knew now that this wasn't a dream. No dream of his had ever been so cruel. Or so insanely intense.

 

The hand pressed down on his neck again, to the point of becoming dangerously close to crushing his windpipe. His mouth opened to let out desperate cries with no air to voice them.

 

The other hand squeezed him, and his vision blurred, sparks starting to fly before his eyes as his brain was becoming starved of oxygen. He marveled at them absentmindedly, starting to disconnect from his fear. They were pretty, like snowflakes, or flakes of ash, floating through the air.

 

His orgasm seized him violently, more intense than he'd ever know. He could feel his come squirting over that hand in long spurts, hitting down on his exposed stomach in hot strings. The hand on his throat didn't let up and he continued to come, being stroked on by the other hand.

 

The boy above him let out a laugh as Harry felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head, continuing to be rocked by his orgasm. He'd never felt something so intense in his life. But darkness was pulling at him, as if trying to balance out the quota, and he quickly found himself being pulled under.

 

 

Harry had thought about going to the police after, he really had. Standing before the building he'd thought about what he'd say to the officer. 'So these two guys burglarized my house but I put it all back, and they kidnapped me and kind of forced themselves on me but I kind of liked it, and I think they're stalking me now but I'm not really sure, and maybe one of them kind of tried to strangle me while jerking me off, but I've never come so hard in my life?'

 

Yeah, not much of a case there. They'd probably have laughed in his face and sent him on his way. Or worse, opened a file on him as a possible schizo.

 

 

Yet, as his hackles raised a few days later as another car slowly trailed behind him on his walk home, he almost wished he had told someone. He sped up his pace, taking a shortcut through an alleyway just in case. It wasn't much of a shortcut, but at least it was away from the road.

 

He'd made it about halfway down when there was suddenly a hand covering his mouth and a knife at his throat, a body flush to his back. He let out a whimper as he was pulled back behind a dumpster. Still a little fuzzy from the drugs, he didn't give up much of a fight, or at least that's what he told himself.

 

"Miss me?" a voice whispered into his ear, scraping the knife against his Adam's apple.

 

Harry swallowed, feeling the blade catch on his skin. He was spun around and slammed back-first against the dumpster, face to face with the tip of the blade. He went a little cross-eyed staring at it, and the other boy laughed.

 

"So how have you been? Bored?" Blue eyes twinkled back at him, the tip of the knife coming to caress the outline of his lips.

 

Ice and fire coursed through him again as his heart beat into his throat, and he couldn't deny that this was the most alive he'd felt in days. Even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

 

The boy seemed to read it in his eyes as the silence stretched on, continuing to run the blade over his lips.

 

He tried not to squirm away from it and let Louis know just how scared he was of him. His heart continued to beat at a frantic rhythm as the blood rushed in his ears, drowning the world in a whoosh of static. Harry wanted to ask if it had been him that night in his bedroom, but the flat look in the boy's eyes told him all he needed to know.

 

Louis continued teasing him with the knife, catching his bottom lip with the tip of the blade. A tug and sting told him he'd broken the skin.

 

The throbbing pain in his lip was enough to snap him out of his paralysis, and he went to push the boy away with a forceful shove. But Louis seemed to have been waiting for it, swiping his arms aside before grabbing one and using his own momentum against him. Harry stumbled forwards as Louis twisted his arm, off-balance and at the mercy of the boy's grip.

 

Louis stepped into him, the knife flashing in his hand as it darted towards Harry's stomach. His heart stopped in his chest as it knocked into his side, bracing himself for the pain.

 

But it didn't come. He looked down, expecting to see his t-shirt blossoming with red from a wound his mind hadn't yet caught up with. Instead he saw the blade had closed a split-second before it made contact, the casing now pressing into his side harmlessly.

 

"Got you." Louis smirked at him before slamming him back against the dumpster, pinning his wrists next to his head and wedging a thigh cruelly between his legs.

 

Harry's back connected with the metal painfully, a sharp edge digging into his flesh. He struggled against him, but the boy was using his full weight to pin him in place. A thigh was pressed to his groin, coming to rub and rut against him.

 

His heart seemed to have no intention of slowing down, and his breath was coming out in gasps as his traitorous cock started to respond to the friction. He wanted to hurt the boy for doing this to him, for making him feel this. It was so fucked up and cruel.

 

He struggled against him, but the grip on his wrists just tightened, and each movement just seemed to bring Louis down harder against his cock.

 

The boy laughed in his face, most likely feeling just how hard he'd gotten against his thigh. Louis moved his hips in a small circle, letting him feel his own erection.

 

Harry growled back at him as the feeling sent shoots of arousal through him. He wanted to drive his fist right into that smirking face, throw him to the ground and pound the living daylights out of him. That or fuck him hard against the wall. His mind was starting to get its wires crossed.

 

"I'd blow you right now if I wasn't so sure you'd smash my face in first." Louis bit at his lip, and Harry couldn't help his eyes from dropping to his mouth.

 

"No thanks," Harry tried to keep the venom in his voice and tear his gaze away from the tongue that came to lick those lips.

 

"Oh come now Harry love, why the sudden change of heart? I thought we were getting on quite well last time." Louis continued to rut against him while tightening his grip on the wrists he was pinning.

 

"Maybe, because, I don't know, you tried to kill me?" Harry hissed out between clenched teeth.

 

"Oh don't tell me you didn't enjoy that. Even just a little bit." Louis was leaning down, whispering the words against his neck. "By the sounds you were making, the way you were writhing... I don't think you've ever come so hard in your life." Louis nipped at his neck as he continued to press against him, and Harry had to close his eyes against the unwanted response those words were lighting up inside of him.

 

"No," he got out, though even his own voice was betraying him now. Louis was mouthing at his neck while undulating against him, and he knew he was seconds away from giving in to him. But he couldn't let this happen again, even if every fiber in his body seemed to be screaming at him to do just that.

 

Louis was humming against his neck, obviously thinking he had him, when Harry abruptly brought his knee up with a jerk. The boy let out a gasp, a hand flying instinctively down to protect himself, and Harry pounded into his face with his newly freed hand. Louis collapsed on the ground with a groan, and Harry took off at a run, not looking back.

 

 

It was the same, the same as before. But now he knew he wasn't going mad, or at least not in that way. They were everywhere, hanging around, casually watching him. He ignored them, too angry to be frightened.

 

He held onto that anger for all he was worth, using it as fuel. It burned brightly inside of him, burning away the fear, the confusion, the unwanted pangs of arousal he still got when he let his mind wander for too long. No, he stoke the flame instead. It was easier to hate them, hate Louis, than admit how some part was desperately waiting for them to swoop down again and take it all.

 

He'd gotten so good at ignoring them, that he didn't even notice at first when they stopped hanging around. When he did, it scared him even more.

 

 

Weeks past, and nothing. No casually hanging outside his school. No lounging in his favorite cafe. No stalking him on his way home. He wanted to believe it was finally over, that he could breathe a sigh of relief and go on with his life. And ignore the inexplicable pang in his chest the thought gave him. He didn't let himself analyse those implications.

 

Which was of course, when it all went to hell again.

 

 

He was stumbling home from a friend's in the middle of the afternoon, a little more high than he probably should be. But he'd felt the need to get utterly smashed and forget – even if it was only for a few hours. Though as he crossed the street and a car started up behind him, he was starting to regret his decision.

 

Picking up the pace and keeping his head down, he almost smashed into the van that had pulled up across the sidewalk. The door opened and he was pulled inside before being roughly shoved to the floor. The door closed again before he could even start struggling.

 

The cold steel of a gun was nudging into the side of his head and a body was sitting on his back, pushing him into the floor. He awkwardly tried to look over his shoulder, finding Zayn perched on top of him, smiling down at him manically.

 

"We're going to have some fun tonight. Wanna come?" he asked casually, as if asking him out for a club night.

 

"What choice do I have?" Harry mumbled, cheek smushed into the floor.

 

Louis let out a laugh as he reversed the van, and sped down the street.

 

 

So there he was, back in the car with them. A different car, but probably just as stolen. And there he was, in the backseat this time. Zayn was beside him, leisurely curled into his side as he passed him his joint. Harry took a pull as Louis cranked up the radio. It was some stupid pop song, but they both sang along to it as they sped down the freeway, and Harry took another pull, feeling weirdly at ease for the first time in days.

 

Zayn nuzzled into his neck as he reached for the joint, taking another toke before belting out the refrain and passing it on to Louis. The boy took a pull before handing it back so that he could down-shift for the exit.

 

Harry leaned his head back against the headrest, trying to make sense of this situation. He'd gotten away, and here he was right in the middle of it again. He hadn't even asked what they were doing. Just numbly gone along with them. What the fuck was wrong with him.

 

They stopped at a house and he froze as the boys both pulled on their masks. They weren't going to... it was middle of the bloody day for godsakes!

 

He stared at them as they looked back at him, the way their eyes glinted behind the black cloth sending a shiver through him.

 

"Alright now Harry love. You're going to take this car and drive it around the block. And in exactly ten minutes you're going to pull it up again. Think you can do that?"

 

Harry was frozen as the implications seeped in.

 

"Harry?" Louis waved a gun in front of his face like a hand, trying to get his attention.

 

A shudder racked through him, and he nodded jerkily. Louis got out of the car, opening his door and pushing him into the driver's seat. The boys made their way up the driveway while he sat behind the wheel, looking back at them. Zayn made quick work of the lock and they were inside.

 

Harry scanned around the neighborhood, hoping no one had seen this blatant display of breaking and entering. The boys would have to be a little more inconspicuous about this whole thing if they didn't want to get caught in three turns. But why the hell was he even thinking about better burglarizing strategies?

 

Starting the car, he drove away slowly and around the block before coming to a stop under a low hanging tree. His hands were shaking on the wheel as he watched the time. He shut off the radio, not being able to take the frivolous moaning over a one-night stand right now.

 

The minutes ticked by, achingly slow. Why was he even waiting here? Nothing was stopping him from just speeding off and dumping this probably stolen car somewhere. He could leave them there and call the cops.

 

But they also knew where he lived. Where his mum lived. And if they somehow got free, they would find him. The thought made his throat close up like a cinch. And so his hands came to grip the steering wheel tight as his eyes continued to watch the clock. Seven minutes to go.

 

 

Those ten minutes were perhaps the longest of Harry's life. He backed the car into the driveway, just as they had for his own kidnapping. If that wasn't some form of irony he didn't know what was.

 

He pulled the trunk release as they came out, bags loaded. They dropped them in before shutting it, and slid into the backseat of the car.

 

"Alright Harry love, get us out of here," Louis chirped at him, and he shifted into first.

 

 

They celebrated their successful burglary at a dive, Louis locking his arm around his shoulders as he told him how good he'd been. They'd distributed most of their loot amongst the homeless, before pawning the rest. It seemed the boy had some weird robin hood complex, thinking he was actually doing some good. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor and whatnot. Harry failed to enlighten him that owning a four bedroom house didn't actually qualify you as rich.

 

The barkeep came around with their shots, inquiring as to what they were celebrating and boys laughed. He found himself joining in as he raised his shot, blowing out the flame before downing it. Louis hugged him tighter and kissed him on the cheek. He looked at Zayn who was smiling back at him, and he knew he was in over his head.

 

 

He spent the night in their trailer again, actually having to drive them there since the boys were both wasted. Louis verbal directions were about as vague as his hand gestures, and Zayn spent most of the ride giggling from the backseat as they pulled into another dead-end. It was about as good as blindfolding him, because by the time they got there Harry wasn't even sure what county they were in.

 

They tumbled into bed, a blur of limbs and hands removing clothing. Zayn held something up to his nose and he inhaled it without thought and it burned in his nostril. It didn't seem to have an effect though, and he let them continue to take off his clothing.

 

Except when it suddenly did. The walls seemed to start swimming before his eyes, swirling in patterns like Celtic knotwork. The hands touching his skin were sending sparks through him, and he leaned into the caresses, closing his eyes. But the feeling was too much, and he had to open them again to focus on something he knew was real.

 

His eyes fell down on the boys, stretch out lazily on the bed. They smiled back up at him, and he reached down to stroke their faces. It was real. They were real. He leaned down, kissing them both on the mouth in turn before collapsing down on top of them, caught in a fit of giggles. He spun around so he could lie sandwiched between them, staring up at the ceiling.

 

Hands caressed his face, trailing down his body and to his groin, and he moaned at the feeling. Their combined hands started to stroke along his cock and it felt so good.

 

"Don't worry Harry love," Louis whispered into his ear, "We'll get you back in time for school," as they continued to pleasure him.

 

And he tried to remember what school was, and why it was important for him to be on time for it.

 

They continued to jerk him off, hands intertwined, nuzzling at either side of his neck in tandem. Such a delicious dual sensation, he wanted to lose himself in the feeling, and he was close to doing so.

 

The hands quickened, other hands coming to caress along his torso, mouths at his neck. He threw his head back and looked at the ceiling, watching it move before his eyes. And Harry knew he was high. High on them.

 

Mouths bit and licked and sucked, while those hands continued to slide and squeeze and twist, and Harry let out a gasp as the ceiling started to spin and he was coming as sparkles of euphoria washed through him.

 

The hands disconnected, each boy raising a hand to his mouth to lick at his come, and Harry had to laugh again. He turned to each of them, catching their lips in turn to taste himself.

 

Bodies came to press into his sides, legs and arms thrown over him locking him in place, and he'd never felt more safe and wanted in all his life. Sleep came easy that night, like a warm wave.

 

 

And then, there he was again, standing before the building in yesterday's clothes, blinking at the harsh sunlight. He glanced back behind him, at Louis and Zayn grinning back at him behind dark sunglasses. They'd stopped at a diner on the way, drowning their hangovers in cheap coffee and greasy breakfast food, commiserating together.

 

He glanced back at his school, watching as the troops of brightly dressed teens chatted boisterously as they ambled inside. He'd never felt more disconnected from them as he did now. It just didn't feel real. Not like what behind him did. The car started up and let out a growl before starting to speed off.

 

He looked back at it, catching Zayn's grin and Louis' salute.

 

Harry raised his hand, before shouldering his backpack and starting inside, sliding on his shades.

 

 


End file.
